


Consent to Creep (Impulse to Soar)

by LibidineTertius



Series: Steal Into My Affections [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Consent Issues, I Don't Think I Can Write Loki Without Consent Issues, M/M, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Still pre-Civil War and Post-Ragnarok Because I Can, more plot this time, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 20:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18746170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibidineTertius/pseuds/LibidineTertius
Summary: Loki got what he wanted, but can get no further. Steve tries to give him what he wants. It gets worse and then it bets better(-ish).





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki got what he wanted, but can get no further. Steve tries to give him what he wants. It gets worse and then it bets better(-ish).
> 
> Chapter One: In which Loki gets the ball rolling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter is basically sans-smut. If you're here for the smut, skip to the bottom of the page. (I promise, you won't hurt my feelings.) I'll summarize there.

The thing Loki had rarely considered about the Avengers’ compound was that there were many other people there _besides_ the Avengers themselves. He also had not fully understood- though he should have- that the core group had changed. Whether the dull green beast remained, he could not ascertain, but there was now a red-skinned golem, a sorceress, and a man with metal wings. There were also soldiers everywhere. That apart from the ordinary staff of any fortress who brought supplies, cooked foods, and did the cleaning. From Loki’s rare opportunities to leave his room, he estimated that there were at least a hundred people here.

But they all answered to _Captain America_. That, it seemed, was their weak point.

The problem was that, since their last interaction, the captain had not returned. Loki, out of boredom, had overplayed his hand, and the man had left him to his own devices, to deal with his brother’s good intentions and to ‘prove’ his good will by letting Thor take him out on short walks accompanied by the golem. (Presumably no one trusted Thor not to fall to Loki’s deceptions. Wise of them.) The most Loki had been able to accomplish on these walks was to accumulate a small stash of items which he might attempt to utilize for removing the magical cuffs which held him away from his magic and thereby trapped in his Jotunn body. Thusfar, none of his attempts had yielded fruit.

It had been nearly two weeks. Loki was either going to cut off his own hands to escape from the cuffs or else he was going to run through all the soldiers screaming _Catch me if you can!_ just for something to do. 

**

Finally, out of desperation, Loki turned to _in_ action. When next Thor arrived, Loki refused to rise. He would not open his eyes nor move his head, nor even get up to eat or drink. Even as Thor grew provocative, even as Thor grew _physical_ , he only lay there until the man left in a huff.

He did the same on the second day.

And on the third.

It was exceedingly difficult maintaining inaction, as his body begged for basic care. His muscles cramped and the need to at least _drink_ something made him open his lips slightly as Thor trickled water into his mouth. But Loki was resolute. He would not react. Would not move. It was the most patient he'd been in his entire life.

At the end of the third day, there was a knock at the door which, of course, he did not respond to. It opened with a click, and another voice said, “Okay, your brother is convinced you’re dying. If this is a prank, it’s a bastard move.” Steps grew closer. “If you’re actually sick, I don’t know what we’re going to do for you.”

Loki waited until the captain had seated himself on the side of the bed before he, at last, opened his eyes. His head- in fact his whole body- ached abominably, and the world spun. He might be a monster, but it had still be a hardship to this body. Still, he managed a small half-smile. “Not a prank,” he said. “Merely a choice. The only choice left to me.”

The captain frowned, his brow furrowed. Loki distantly mused that he’d aged since they’d first met during the mess with the Chitauri and the Mad Titan. Mortals lived such brief little lives, snuffed out as easily as a candle. His mind drifted until the captain called him back with, “Explain this to me.”

“Look at me,” Loki murmured. It was difficult to speak and not do anything else. His body insisted that if he could do one act, he could do more. “If I cannot live as myself, I will die a monster.”

There was something twisted and unhappy in the captain’s face. A good man. A _merciful_ man. “You don’t need to die for this. Just be patient a little longer.” Loki closed his eyes. It was barely even a conscious choice. He was extremely tired. 

Something brushed his forehead. Loki almost startled up as he realized it was a kiss. He opened his dry lips and a kiss was pressed there too. “You want us to force you to live?” the man whispered. “We can do that. But I’ve been there, and it’s not fun. How about we find a compromise?” He had several ideas what the captain might consider a reasonable ‘compromise,’ but he opened his eyes again, staring into that face. The man had such long lashes. “These are the problem.” The captain stroked the edge of cuff and wrist. Weakened, Loki couldn’t hold back a slight shiver at the touch. “So let’s work on it. Today, I’ll take them off for three minutes. You won't hurt anyone. At the end, you’ll let me put them back on.”

Unacceptable. Loki closed his eyes, lips clamping shut. Above him, the captain sighed. “And then,” he continued, “tomorrow, it will be six minutes. And the next day twelve.” Loki’s eyes opened, understanding and, cautiously, accepting. This was, more or less, what he’d been hoping for. “And then twenty four. It can only be under supervision for now, and I can’t promise that we can allow it full-time in the near future, but it’s _something_ , right?”

Rather than answering aloud, Loki raised his wrist.

Rogers leaned forward until his lips were pressed to the cuff. His breath ghosted over the edge as he whispered. The cuff opened. With just the one cuff off, the magic tingled at the edge of his consciousness. He could, literally, taste it in the air. The the captain breathed the phrase over the other cuff and it, too, fell away.

**

Loki had intended, in the planning, to make a show of getting his powers back. To play up how overwhelming it was, to force the captain to minister to him. 

He hadn’t realized how overwhelming it genuinely would be.

For three minutes, he could do little but arch and thrash and _wail_ while Rogers held him down and whispered that it would pass, that it would get better, that he was strong enough to survive this. 

Yet Rogers _didn’t_ offer to replace the cuffs any sooner.

**

As the cuffs clicked back into place, Loki lay sprawled on the bed, sweaty and disheveled and shocked. He’d harnessed the magic for over a thousand years. To have been so out of control was unthinkable.

He lifted a hand, Rogers still holding onto his arm in comfort or restraint. Blue. He let it drop. “Give me the tray,” Loki rasped. He’d gotten what he wanted, and he’d need the energy to try again the next day. He thought he saw Rogers smile in approval as he finally let go of Loki’s arm to fetch the tray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One: Loki is tired of being a prisoner and even more tired of the very necessary security measures the Avengers have put on him, because it means he has no magic and is stuck in his Jotunn form. After Loki forces Steve's hand through the use of a hunger strike, Steve agrees to gradually allow Loki a little time each day where he can have access to his magic and his preferred body.
> 
>  
> 
> Soapbox: Keep in mind, by the way, that though I try to write Loki like a relatable person instead of a mustache-twirling villain, he's still a pretty awful person.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki got what he wanted, but can get no further. Steve tries to give him what he wants. It gets worse and then it bets better(-ish).
> 
> Chapter Two: In which Steve Rogers is a human stopwatch.

Loki was quite recovered the next day. For a frost giant, he was small and sickly, but he was still hearty enough to recover from his three days of privation. By the time Captain Rogers arrived, he was up on his feet, pacing, ready to start. 

For his part, the captain looked concerned. “You think you can take six minutes?” he asked after only the barest of pleasantries. 

With a little smile, Loki assured, “I can take anything you care to give me.” 

He held Rogers’ eyes, but the man didn’t blush or look away, only nodded and gestured to the bed. “Probably should sit down first.”

Loki sat, but also scooted over, making it very clear that he was leaving room beside him. He might be a monster and a prisoner, but he had some control over this situation, if only in what he could _make_ Rogers do. Rogers, face slightly wary, sat down beside him, and reached for one of Loki’s wrists, not quite touching. 

Loki smiled at him. “You don’t want to hurt me,” Loki narrated for him. “But you made a promise, Captain.” The man’s lips tightened slightly with the use of his title. “If you want to be kind, you might distract me somewhat from the pain. Otherwise, please simply do it.”

Rogers breathed slowly. “Distract you?” he asked, his voice rough and very quiet.

Loki gave him a long, slow smile. They both knew what kind of distraction he had in mind. “Six minutes,” he reminded Rogers. Not a damn moment less.

With a nod, Rogers whispered against the cool metal of Loki’s cuffs again, the deactivation phrase too faint for Loki to make out, and then came the pain of magic rushing back in after months without: a fresh agony, like the light of the sun after months in the dark. Loki’s head flung back, his teeth grit and his neck cording as he fought to just take it, not to beg for the pain to stop. Because if he said _stop_ , Rogers would, and that couldn’t be borne.

There was a hand on his thigh and Rogers’ absurdly gentle bedroom voice asking permission. “Yes!” Loki agreed. He didn’t even really know what Rogers had asked, but he'd not been teasing about a distraction. Not only teasing. The hand on his thigh was at least another place to focus his attention besides the agony of renewed magic. He did his best to focus on other things instead: Rogers’ strong, careful hand moving up and down the meat of his leg muscle, rotating slowly toward his inner thigh until he was softly stroking between Loki’s legs, almost touching his cock.

“You can do it,” Rogers whispered, like Loki needed convincing. “What can I do for you?” he asked while Loki shuddered.

“Touch me!” Loki demanded, alight with too much pain to be eloquent. But that only made Rogers’ hand still, so he did his best to gentle his voice, for all that it was cracking with pain. “Please. Put your hands on me. It helps.”

Accepting that, Rogers’ other hand skated up under Loki’s shirt. There were only the faintest of calluses on those fingers, and they slid across Loki’s abdomen and chest, rubbing soothingly. Loki didn’t want soothing. He wanted passion. Doubtful that he could get erect, but if Rogers had shoved him down and sucked his cock or yanked Loki onto his own cock… well, at least that would have been a distraction. Instead, Loki just twisted needily. “Transformation hurts,” Rogers whispered. “I know. But you’re doing so well.”

Loki bared his teeth, resisting the urge to say _This is something you lot did to me. I’m suffering because of you._ But he didn’t. “Please, more," he grated. "It’s not enough.”

Rogers nodded, carefully shifting Loki down until he was on his back, and Rogers crouched over him, eyes very blue and mouth very pink. Then the soldier ducked his head and soft, wet lips began to trace over Loki’s left nipple, hot breath ghosting across his skin in a way that made him shudder. The wetness evaporated slowly, cool against his nipple, and Rogers moved to the other side while Loki’s shirt pressed up under his chin. He moved from rubbing his lips against the tender flesh to using the tip of his tongue, teasing with firm laps, running his tongue around the now firm, erect nipple. Cool and hot and wet and Loki let his pale hands settle into the man’s hair, struggling not to yank too hard as he shook, because today was only _six_ minutes and tomorrow would be twice that…

And just as he thought that this sweet torture might be enough that he could get hard even through the pain, the mouth moved away. Loki almost shouted as Rogers drew up one narrow wrist to clamp the cuff back into place. First one and then the other. Loki was left sweating and needing _more_. But when he reached out to put one hand on Rogers’ face, it was blue again. Disgusted and frustrated, he drew it back, pressing it into the mattress where he still lay. “Twelve minutes tomorrow?” he demanded, voice shredded.

“Twelve minutes tomorrow,” Rogers agreed. And Loki was irrationally grateful that the man didn’t immediately stand up. Not that he needed charity.

After several minutes, Loki, still overwarm and hurting, drew himself up and leaned into the man’s bulk. He thought he might be ill. “It was exactly six minutes?” he asked curiously, his shoulder leaning against Rogers'. Rogers hadn’t seemed to use any sort of device.

Rogers nodded and settled a hand on Loki’s waist, helping to keep him propped up. Loki noted, with amusement, that Rogers was hard. “I have have perfect time sense,” Rogers assured. “It’s part of the…” He waved his free hand at himself. “...perfection package.” Interestingly, though, it didn’t sound like he was bragging. More like he was mildly annoyed or tired with this 'perfection.' 

Loki raised his brows and leaned in a little more firmly. “Perfect,” he repeated, amused before sitting up and shakily getting to his feet. When Rogers seemed convinced that Loki wasn’t about to fall over and die, he got up too. “Captain Rogers,” Loki said slowly and waited until they’d made solid eye contact. “As long as I’m in my... “ His Asgardian form wasn’t, he supposed, his _natural_ body, for all that it felt that way. “... preferred body, you may do whatever you like with me.” He did not rush. He let each word fall heavily on the man’s ears so he could believe them. “Suck me. Fuck me. Tie me to the bed and shove your cock so far down my throat I can’t breathe.” Rogers was shaking his head in protest, but Loki kept talking. “Fill me with fingers or toys or cock. Whatever pleases you. So long as I am in that skin.”

The bulge in Rogers’ pants belied the furrowing of his brow. “Why are you telling me this?”

But he had to know. Loki held out his hands, rotating them so Rogers could see first their backs and then their palms, all of it a deep blue. _Because_ , he didn’t say, _I want to give you incentive for letting me out of this_. Instead he stayed quiet. 

Rogers sucked his lower lip slightly and then nodded. “Understood,” he said. “Twelve minutes tomorrow,” and left without another word.

***

The captain’s cooperation secured, Loki ate well and even allowed his brother a short visit (mostly because there was no way to turn Thor away without angering his captors). He also disappeared into the bathroom that morning and spent a little time preparing himself as best he could with limited supplies. His fingers dipping slowly inside his own ass were more pleasant than they had any right to be while he was trapped, and Loki told himself it was all due to the anticipation of Captain Rogers in his bed once more. No matter how the man assured that he would limit Loki to those twelve minutes, Loki was certain the captain would break and take as much time as he required once he had his cock deep in Loki’s willing body.

The blond’s visit arrived, at last, several hours after lunch. Rogers was sporting fading bruises, but he didn’t seem otherwise injured. Likely training injuries. “You still want to do this today?” he checked.

Loki raised his brows. “Of course.” Whether _this_ meant removing the cuffs or fucking Rogers... either way the answer was ‘yes.’ 

“Right.” Rogers looked a little upset, but he also looked determined. Sitting down beside Loki once more, he took one of Loki's narrow blue hands in his own and bent his head. But instead of whispering the deactivation phrase, he kissed the small strip of exposed inner wrist.

Loki jerked his hand back, heart racing a little. “No,” he said firmly and Rogers drew back slightly, chastened. “Not in this form.”

Rogers opened his mouth, but then just closed it again and nodded. “Alright.” Taking Loki’s hand again, he smiled wanly and assured, “Just… if you want me to stop… anything…” Another breath and he dipped his head.

The bracelet fell away from his left hand and the pain began to sizzle before Rogers had even released the right. At least the pain was a little different now. Less entirely overwhelming now that Loki had some idea what to expect, though certainly a very encompassing kind of torment. But this was his power returning and his _self_ , and Loki was not about to let it go a moment sooner than he must.

Rogers' lips pressed the edge of Loki’s jaw and Loki tilted his head to give the man greater access. He spread his legs, encouraging Rogers to take what he desired, and shuddered as Rogers seemed to decide that what he really desired was to slide down the bed a little so he could put his mouth on Loki’s stomach. There was nothing intrinsically sexy about the touch, but there was something about the way Rogers looked at him just before he slid down Loki’s body that twinged the part of Loki’s brain that said _worship_. 

Loki’s hands were shaking, and he barely realized it until he tried to settle them on Rogers’ broad shoulders. _Twelve minutes_ , he thought, looking at his elegant Asgardian hands. _Maybe more._ “You want to distract me?” Loki’s voice was a bit strained from suffering, but also from pleasure. "Will you give me more?"

Sure enough, Rogers’ hands went for the fastenings of Loki’s pants. Nimble fingers had Loki bare from waist to upper thighs in short order, and that warm mouth was now kissing to either side of his cock. Loki doubted he had much of an erection, but there was pleasure to be had regardless. He let his eyes fall closed, reveling in the rightness of the magic settling once more into his bones. If Rogers would just leave the damn cuffs off…

“Do you want to fuck me?” Loki murmured, sure Rogers heard him when the hands on his cock and thigh stilled momentarily. “I readied myself for you.”

The hand that had been settled on his thigh moved to cup his ass and then fingers gently probed, exploring. Loki knew exactly what Rogers would find. Loki wouldn't be very loose, but he would be wet enough to show that he’d taken some care. Forethought that Rogers should surely take as invitation.

“God,” Rogers whispered and Loki smiled. Then Rogers licked at the base of Loki’s cock: firm, unhesitating lapping that showed more enthusiasm than skill. The exploring finger began to delve a little deeper and Loki grinned in triumph. Only twelve minutes? Even the ‘super soldier’ was not immune to lures of the flesh, as well he knew.

He shifted his hips, letting Rogers work his finger in deeper still, rubbing inside Loki’s body with a single, strong digit. Loki shuddered with magic and arousal and the pleasure of making other people do what he wanted them to.

But then the finger was drawn from his body, and Rogers pressed one last kiss onto the dip of Loki’s belly, and he reached for Loki’s hand. Outraged and genuinely shocked, Loki grated, “What are you doing?”

“Twelve minutes,” Rogers said apologetically, snapping a cuff back into place. 

“No,” Loki said, trying to pull the other hand back.

But Rogers just looked at him, disappointment written across his face. “Are you ending the arrangement?” he asked. “Tomorrow would be twenty four.”

Loki closed his eyes, lips pressed tight, and felt something in him clench tight like a fist as he gave his captor his right hand. Instantly, he was monstrous once more. He glared at Rogers with hurt and loathing. It must have been an impressively hard stare, because Rogers looked away before glancing at Loki’s disarrayed clothes. Loki laughed humorlessly and stared at his exposed cock and then at the erection tenting Rogers’ pants. 

“I… probably should start keeping my distance,” Rogers said uncomfortably, rising to his feet and trying to cover Loki with the corner of a sheet.

Loki’s brows rose, but he didn’t move away. “Afraid I’ll mar your virtue?”

Rogers flinched and let the sheet settle into place. “Tomorrow, twenty four minutes. Please…” He licked his lips, but it spoke more to discomfort than arousal. 

“Please?” Loki repeated.

Rogers was quiet for too long and finally just said, “Tomorrow” before turning away to leave. 

Loki waited until he’d crossed the threshold before throwing a shoe at the door. It didn’t hit the captain, but it felt good, at least for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love an unreliable narrator. Yes, I know what's going on in Steve's head. No, I'm not telling it from his POV, at least not in this story. Poor bastard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki got what he wanted, but can get no further. Steve tries to give him what he wants. It gets worse and then it bets better(-ish).
> 
> Chapter Three: In which Steve tries to do the right thing. Loki pays the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this chapter. Again, if that's why you're here, I have a summary at the bottom of the page. Good? Good! More smut next chapter!

Good to his word, Rogers returned the next day, but not alone.

“Why is _the child_ here?” Loki demanded, curling his lip at the captain’s sorceress.

She hung back, looking frail and uncomfortable while also radiating power. “Because,” she said in English that was only faintly accented, “Sam is unwilling, Natasha is busy, and Rhodey said you are-” The captain practically whiplashed himself in the effort of glaring at her, which made Loki extremely curious what precisely this _Roadie_ said about him. It must have been unusually and creatively impolite.

“She’s here because I asked her to be.” Rogers was sporting a touch of high color. Loki stared at him, understanding _precisely_ why she was here.

“You coward,” he said slowly, gloatingly. “You don’t want to be alone with me. Afraid of what I’ll do? Or afraid of what you’ll do?” Was Loki so irresistible that the man needed a chaperone to keep himself from drawing pleasure out of Loki’s willing, suffering person?

Rogers’ chiseled face had gone all stoic, that soft lower lip tensed. Loki wanted to bite it. Finally, he said, “You don’t have to stay, Wanda.”

The child looked at him peculiarly and then at Loki, her eyes narrowed. “I have nowhere to be.”

She suspected him of ensorcelling the captain himself somehow. As though he could, even free of the cuffs. His skills had never lain in that direction. If Amora yet lived, or her sister, they might be able to twist the captain’s mind. All Loki had were his words. “She will guard you, Captain.” Pride. That was the blond’s lever. So like Thor, who could be averted from the wiser course of action by a simple challenge to his masculinity. Rogers, who had once been small and weak, could barely stand for even a captive to imply he was weak or vulnerable. 

The best part was that Rogers certainly knew that he was being manipulated. But he couldn’t bear it, regardless. “Wanda…”

She moved around to face her commander, to confront him. “ _Steve_ ,” she hissed. “If he uses his magic…”

To be fair, she all but leaked power from her fingers with every twitch of her hands. She might be young, but she could likely do a great deal of damage to Loki if she tried. (Whereas Loki couldn’t do much to anyone but himself with his magic. Transformation. Illusion. Trickery. He _could_ be hurt.) “If it helps,” he said lightly from behind her back, sitting down slowly onto the bed, resisting the urge to stretch out suggestively instead, “chances are that I will be in such debilitating pain that I won’t be able to throw a punch.”

To her credit, she didn’t take the bait, just holding her stance. Rogers stared at her. “You’ll see-”

“No.” Loki hadn’t known he was about to say it. 

From Rogers’ face, he was almost as surprised as Loki. “No?” the blond asked, like he was sure he must be misunderstanding.

“No,” Loki said again, standing slowly. The motion made the sorceress turn to face him, her hands raising slightly in wary preparation for an attack. Loki had no interest in her, advancing on Rogers. “I will not be a public spectacle.”

The captain opened his mouth to protest, but Loki stepped forward, one hand rising, lips pulled back. "Only-"

-the red bolt of power slammed him backward. 

 

****

“Hold him!” Loki recalled Thor shouted. “Hold him down!”

“That is precisely what I am doing,” the golem said, testy. Indeed, someone was holding Loki with impressive strength. Strong even to Loki, raised among gods. But Loki was still a distance from his body, unable to comment. That was possibly just as well considering that Loki was reasonably certain the pain he was experiencing right now was going to be considerably greater as soon as he was fully back in his body.

“What did you _do_?” Thor thundered. The man was well over his first millennia, the king of a diminished people, and yet he still couldn’t hold his damnable temper. Absurd. A fragment of Loki recognized that things had gone very bad indeed if Thor was this upset. 

“He was going to hurt Steve!” the sorceress insisted. Even more absurd. 

Loki remembered little else.

***

Some time later, when the shouting was done, Loki swam back to consciousness. Something was strange, though he couldn’t say what.

“Brother?” 

Loki sighed and looked over to his irksome… well, yes, _brother_ , however much it galled him to say so. “You are a king. You truly have nothing to do but nursemaid me?”

Thor moved to his side, his face strained, and he was smiling. Well, damn. That meant something was _truly_ wrong. Loki immediately tried to get up, even as Thor said, “You are going to be-” But he grabbed at Loki’s shoulders, trying to push him back down. “No, no, not yet.”

Loki batted away his hands, so Thor must not have been particularly determined to keep him lying down. His brother always had possessed far more brute physical strength. Loki curled his lip, noting that his hands were blue. Then he paused, taking in something else. He lifted both arms and stared. The cuffs were gone. Both cuffs were gone. And he was _still_ blue. 

His mind was full of hot static. “What have you done to me?” he whispered, and the words felt like they were being ripped out of him. He _knew_.

“Loki…” Thor was using that awful _Hail- fellow- well- met_ voice he used when he was attempting to cajole people. Thor was terrible at cajoling, but he thought it was charming. It wasn’t. It made Loki want to break Thor’s teeth. “Loki… it’s not so bad…”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Loki said, voice dripping with scorn, “but your friends have trapped me in the form of a monster.” Thor opened his mouth, said nothing, and looked uncomfortable. Loki thought he would be ill. “Go,” he demanded, quiet and angry. He needed time to regroup. Time to plot out how to turn _this_ to some advantage. Thor just crouched there over his bed like a mindless clod. “Go!” Loki roared and… oh, how he could _roar_ when he was Jotunn and terrible.

Thor, for once, did as he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three: Steve brings Wanda as a chaperone/guard and Loki takes offense. When Loki demonstrates a little temper, she uses her magic. The cuffs suck up that magic along with Loki's and break, leaving Loki Jotunn and sans magic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki got what he wanted, but can get no further. Steve tries to give him what he wants. It gets worse and then it bets better(-ish).
> 
> Chapter Four: In which Steve returns and Loki is in a hell of a mood.

They let him out. Loki must be considered declawed without his magic. Or perhaps they simply felt badly enough for having turned their friend's brother into a monster permanently and for depriving him of his magic, his sole tie to his mother. Thor came to tell him of his relative freedom, the sorceress hovering unhappily in his shadow. She did not look at Loki. He did not snap her neck. It seemed an equal trade.

The captain was markedly absent, but when Loki inquired among the nervous soldiers, they informed him that the man was on a mission. Apparently, word had been passed along that the defanged god was one of the team now. 

By the time the captain returned to the compound the next morning in the company of the man with the great metal wings, Loki understood his situation. He couldn’t say he was _resigned_ , but he understood. Apparently, when you blasted a great deal of magic into someone wearing magic-absorbing cuffs, the side effects were unpleasant for both captive and cuffs. Rogers came up quietly and leaned beside Loki on one of the great balconies. The captain was still smudged with dirt and blood. The view from this place was… bland, if pleasant enough. “You going to be okay?” the man asked him quietly.

“My options are limited,” Loki remarked flatly. “I did consider a murderous spree, but I'd rather not get blood on my shirt.” To Rogers’ credit, he didn’t even tense. Clearly, he was growing inured to Loki’s sense of humor. Of course, Loki _was_ still angry. Furious. He just wasn’t the murderous killing spree sort. Not with _his_ hands anyway. “I’m afraid you’ll have a hard time honoring the terms of our agreement now. If you can only have possession of me while I-” Loki’s voice shook and he cursed himself for not getting the line out more easily.

The captain didn’t touch him, but drew so close only a breath separated them. “I know this isn’t what you wanted,” he said fiercely. “But you’re still strong. Fast.” Hideous. Wrong. “I’m going to need a few minutes to wash the road off-” Like the blood crusted into his hairline was just dust and sweat. “-but let me show you around.”

Loki turned and stared at him. Already, the captain had let Loki have him twice in this skin. “I’ll walk with you,” he said instead. He’d rather see the inside of Rogers’ room than any ‘wonders’ on this mudball of a world.

Rogers let him into his room. Loki had known he would.

Not bothering with subtlety, Loki reached for the leather straps on the captain’s uniform, pulling them away. “A touch of the exotic appeals to you,” he murmured, telling himself to be quiet and do it now before he lost himself this diversion. But the words kept coming; Loki had never been able to keep himself from informing people that he was the smartest person in the room. "I suppose you couldn't bring yourself to sully those under your command. Has your bed been cold, or is this your good deed for the day, demeaning yourself to be with me?"

“You’re still a good-looking man,” Rogers argued, reaching for the buttons on Loki’s shirt. He moved with more confidence than he’d shown in all the time Loki had been pulling the soldier into his metaphorical bed. Rogers opened the little buttons with no hesitation. “You’re sure…?”

_Now_ he asked? Now, when Loki owed him nothing at all? “I would have you,” Loki growled in his ear. “I would spread you out like a feast and press myself inside your throbbing heat.” It was a bit over the top, but Rogers’ breath quickened, so apparently it worked.

“Yes. Okay,” the man said hastily. “Help me…” Loki stripped him with relative ease. Rogers was eager and cooperative, and his uniform was held together by simple zippers with the occasional clasp. In truth, Loki would like fucking the man _in_ his uniform, but it was, essentially, an elaborate and well-fitted jumpsuit; there was no simple way to access his ass without taking the rest of the uniform off. So Loki stripped him down to his skin. He found bruises there beneath the protective layers, but Rogers was not balking, so Loki wouldn’t either.

He shoved Rogers down onto the bed. It was plain, without any personal touches, but sturdy, and that was all they needed. Moving between the blond’s legs, Loki smoothed his hands up the strong muscles of belly and chest slowly leaning further forward, pausing on the collarbones before teasingly skating past the throat to touch Rogers’ face. Rogers gripped Loki’s shoulders and opened his mouth to catch at one of Loki’s fingers, sucking at it with an expression of determination. “Eager,” Loki said approvingly. “Have you had any lovers that were not mere humans other than me?”

The captain shook his head and pushed Loki’s finger out with his tongue. “Look, I’m not having sex with you because you’re bl-”

Loki shoved his fingers back in. He didn’t need to hear it. “Where do you keep your lubrication?”

Rogers let go of Loki’s shoulder to point at a nightstand. With a roll of his hips, grinding his covered cock against Rogers’ rising erection, Loki stepped away from his occasional-lover to go raid the nightstand. Indeed, in the top drawer was a bottle of lotion. Not a proper lubricant, just a pump-bottle of hand-lotion, but it would do. There was also a box of tissues, some loose coinage, and a small, metal box that Loki would have to investigate when the man wasn’t looking. Pathetically bare considering how long the man had been living here. “No handcuffs?” Loki asked teasingly. “No condoms?”

Rogers’ chuckle was low, his face creased with something like unhappiness at the memory of that previous encounter. “I’m clean.”

“And you cannot bear children?” Loki checked. Rogers blinked, looking so confused that Loki clarified, “You cannot be gotten with child.”

“No!” But he was laughing now, and that was better than the creased misery. Steve Rogers was a beautiful man when he was laughing. Loki leaned in to kiss him firmly, then firmer still, a hand locked in the short strands of blond hair, pinning him in place for Loki’s rough kiss. The mortal might be strong for his kind, but Loki was stronger still, and by the time Loki came up for air with Rogers’ arms wrapped around him, the man was panting, his lips swollen and his expression wild. “You’re… still wearing a lot of clothes,” Rogers pointed out raggedly.

Loki acknowledged the point with a hum, but he wasn’t very fond of his own naked flesh. More entertaining to play with Rogers’ willing body. He leaned over to grip the man’s muscular thighs and Rogers grunted as Loki pressed down on a bruise while dragging him around to shove his knees back against his shoulders. “Have you thought of me in your empty bed?” Loki whispered, parting the man’s ass cheeks to press a thumb against his hole, teasing at what could be. “Thought of me with my _cock_ inside you, driving you slowly mad while you kept your hands against the wall? Did you put your fingers inside yourself, thinking of me?”

Rogers was still breathing hard, holding his legs back to keep himself wide open. “Don’t think much of yourself, do you?”

Loki grinned, sharp as a blade. “That wasn’t ‘no,’” he pointed out delightedly. It was a malicious glee, thinking of Rogers in this bare room, pleasing himself while wishing for Loki’s fuck. Pumping out a little of the lotion, Loki smoothed it over his fingers before pressing one forefinger very gently against Rogers’ fundament, not giving the man what he wished for just yet. “And how _did_ you imagine me? Was I a gentle, considerate lover in your imaginings? Easing you with a tender touch and slow, careful strokes? Or was I a beast?” He pressed a second finger against the hole, both pushing firmly now though not angled to enter Rogers, just hinting at roughness. “Shoving my cock into your helpless body and thrusting into you savagely?”

Rogers might be a leader of men, but his face was painfully open in the bedroom, and he looked away at Loki’s second suggestion, color in his cheeks, as obvious as a virgin. “I didn’t say I thought of you.”

“But you _did_ think of me.” Loki changed the angle of his fingers and they both slid forward firmly -if perhaps a bit roughly- into the man’s body. Rogers sucked in a breath, but did not protest the treatment. “This is what you want of me, isn’t it? To muscle may way into your bed and make you take the things you cannot bring yourself to ask for.” Rogers looked guilty now and slightly alarmed. Loki pressed the fingers in to the second knuckle and then just kept pushing, gradually sinking deeper and deeper while the captain’s face contorted. “You don’t think you should want this, but you do. And you know I can give it to you.” He was, after all, a monster. Why shouldn’t the captain think of him this way? Why shouldn’t Loki give in to that part of his nature?

He shoved his fingers in deeper, gripping Rogers’ thigh roughly while the man’s head rolled back and he moaned quietly between barely parted lips. “Tell me about it,” he insisted. “Tell me what I would do to you in your dreams.”

Rogers swallowed, but he grated out, “On my knees.”

There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Loki pulled his fingers out enough to begin adding a third, the escalation ruthless. “On your knees,” he echoed.

Rogers nodded, movements jerky. “I thought about you putting me on my knees. Putting… yourself in my mouth. Using…” The words clearly made him wildly uncomfortable, but Loki loved it.

“You thought about me using of your sluttish mouth as I would,” he interpreted. “I may yet. I may drag you down onto the floor, grip your face and shove my cock inside. Tell me you want that.”

“I…” Rogers licked at his lips, uncertain. 

But Loki was not going to be fool enough to let the man later claim he’d been taken against his will. Anyway, it was fun listening to him attempt dirty talk. “Tell me what you want. Or I will pull my fingers from you and leave you here, naked and wanting, with only your hand and your lotion.”

Rogers’ face tightened, angry or hurt. There was no more uncertainty in his voice. “Fuck me,” he insisted, chin forward. “You don’t have to be gentle about it.”

“As you wish.” Loki pushed all three fingers in firmly, making Rogers groan. Loki fucked him with them steadily as he used his other hand to open his trousers. He would need his other hand to fully undress, but Loki slipped a hand inside his underthings to stroke himself. Even in the confines of his clothes, he was growing hard, ready to sample the pleasures of the captain’s body once more. He caressed his own length firmly, staring at the man’s pretty face, set with determination and twisted in pleasure. “Let me be the savage creature in your bed.”

Rogers grabbed at his wrist, pressing him in deeper still, practically fucking himself on Loki’s fingers. “You’re not,” he insisted. “Fuck, just… do it…”

“Anything to please.” Loki pulled his fingers out, though he had to pull away from Rogers’ gripping hand to do it, and quickly pushed his trousers down, out of the way. This was going to be inelegant: Loki’s shirt still flapping about his body, his trousers around his knees, and his shoes on. But perhaps that was fitting. Taking a moment to pump a bit more lotion from the bottle and to slick it over his erection, Loki lined himself up. “Last chance to escape,” he teased, but Rogers was hitching himself up higher, hooking his heels over Loki’s shoulders, and Loki was no fool to look that gift horse in the mouth. He thrust himself in hard, burying himself in several inches with the first shove of his hips. Rogers cried out and Loki leaned in to press a hand over his mouth. “You want the others to find you this way?” he teased, grinning. “Naked. Wanton. With _me_?” In truth, it would do his own reputation little harm.

Rogers nodded with understanding from under Loki’s hand, sucking in a breath with his nose and doing nothing to pull away. He rolled his hips and Loki took it as a hint, jabbing forward with his hips again to sink deeper into the man’s body. Flushed warm beneath him, Rogers kept his moans low enough that it should not draw the others to this room. Loki met his movements with more rough thrusts, drawing his erection gradually out only to slam his hips forward so his cock thrust deeper still. With little patience, Loki had seated himself fully in the man. Removing his hand from Rogers’ mouth, he demanded, “Tell me more of your fancies. You on your knees. Me-” He rolled his hips, making them both shudder slightly. “-fucking your sweet mouth. What else would you have of me?”

“Whatever you want,” Rogers said, and there was something helpless in his voice. “Is this what you want?”

Loki rolled his hips and began a steady rhythm, each thrust driving Rogers a touch higher up the bed until the man grabbed fiercely at the sheets in an effort to hold his position. “You literally can’t even imagine the things that I want,” Loki whispered, but he wrapped his fingers around Rogers’ erection. It had flagged somewhat with penetration, but now it firmed to his hand as Loki stroked it. “I think you’ll spend yourself like this. With my cock inside you.”

Rogers laughed raggedly. “I think you’re right.”

“Wanton,” Loki accused and leaned in for another rough kiss while he fucked and stroked Rogers, barely checking his strength. By the time he was ready to spend into the blond’s clenching body, Rogers had already come, moaning and gasping. Rogers had looked a bit silly in that moment, as all people did, eyes rolling back and face contorted, but it made Loki slow his thrusts and even slow the hand that slowly and firmly wrung the last drops of come from Rogers. Strong thighs relaxed at last while come smeared between their bodies, and Loki made ready to draw out.

But Rogers grabbed him by the wrist once more. There was some distress in his face and Loki hesitated rather than pulling free. “In me,” Rogers insisted quietly. Slightly off-balance but willing enough, Loki gripped Rogers’ knees, resettling his position, and drove in fiercely. Each movement of Loki’s hips elicited small sounds from the man, made only more sensitive from the rush of orgasm, but Loki didn’t slow. He picked up speed, pushing himself, until they shook the bed and Rogers’ back bowed. Loki came with a long, broken sigh, thrust a few more times, then slowly came to a stop. 

He was too warm, but he felt better than he had since he’d revived this way. Drawing away from Rogers' body, he gave in to the urge to stretch out on the narrow bed beside his sometimes-lover who made room for him. They lay there quietly a moment, just catching their breath. Eyes half-closed, Loki murmured, “Is this what you dreamed of for the monster in your bed.”

Rogers rolled on his side, staring. Loki could feel the intensity of that stare. “This-” Rogers said firmly, running two fingers along Loki’s arm. “-does not make you a monster.”

Loki scowled. Very neat phrasing. “It’s easier for you this way, isn’t it?” he returned quietly. “Easier to pretend I’m someone else.” Someone new. Someone who hadn’t used Barton’s knowledge to band together Shield’s enemies nor led the Chitauri forces across Rogers’ world. “It would be so difficult to forget the truth if wore my own face.” 

There was stillness beside him, and then Rogers was rising from the bed. “I should go wash.” Rogers sounded flat. But he did not argue the point. After all, Loki _was_ the smartest one in the room and how could Rogers argue the truth? Loki remained in the bed while Rogers went stiff-backed into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Loki in the spartan room, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing this many stories in this series, I feel like I ought to write one more just to give them something resembling a happy ending. Loki makes 'happy ending' extraordinarily difficult.
> 
> Then, if I'm lucky, I can stick to writing characters who don't seriously use the word "throbbing."


End file.
